Rebel Heart

Lana nodded. She rose, anxious to be on her way but grateful to take Jack with her. Mrs. Watson quietly swept their dirty plates away. Lana approached the couch, where the large rucksack sat. She hesitated, recalling how bruised her shoulders already were from the harness in the helo. With a deep breath, she hefted the heavy sack and pulled it over her shoulders. She turned in time to see Mrs. Watson's skeptical look turn into a smile.

"Thank you again," Lana said and started to the door. "I'm going by my place really fast. When I get somewhere safe, I'll send help for you."

"I'm fine, dear, really. I've got enough ammo to outlast any vandals."

Lana opened the front door. Unaccustomed to the weight of the rucksack on her back, she almost toppled over at the first step of the stairwell and caught the banister with both hands.

"Here. Tighten the straps. The higher on your back it is, the easier to carry," Mrs. Watson instructed.

Lana felt the weight lifted, and she wrenched the straps as tight as she could. When Mrs. Watson released the rucksack, it felt better balanced, though no lighter. She stepped down the stairs slowly and turned to wave at Mrs. Watson. The elderly woman stood in her doorway and waved.

With a return wave, Lana set her gaze on the door to her own apartment up the stairs. A few minutes of huffing later, she opened the door. Despite what Mrs. Watson had said of vandals, the apartment was untouched.

Lana closed the door behind her and looked around, dismayed. There was a reason the apartment was still the same. She had nothing. Mrs. Watson's apartment was warm and homey. Lana's a place to sleep and nothing more. Aside from her bed, wardrobe, and a couch, there was nothing else in the apartment. Jack slept on the couch, and all her belongings were in the wardrobe.

The condo felt like it belonged to a stranger. Her throat tightened. The only thing remotely personal she owned-her photo viewer-had been destroyed on the Peak. She'd never thought of her apartment as lacking character. Of course, she'd rarely been there in daylight. Mr. Tim was high maintenance.

Jack crossed to what had been his favorite spot on the couch. He sniffed at it.

Lana opened her wardrobe and looked at the fed uniforms hanging within. They were pressed and waiting for her, as if no one had told them her life had changed. In fact, standing in her apartment, she had the surreal sense that life hadn't changed, as if she could open the door and go to work like any other day.